Soup, Anyone?
by Lt. Commander Hanna Tucker
Summary: (Takes place in the 1987 DuckTales universe) /-*-*-\ Scrooge McDuck gets sick while he and Fenton are on their honeymoon. Naturally, Fenton takes charge and annoints himself nurse for the week. And all Scrooge wants to do is enjoy his free "overrated" vacation. - (Fenton Crackshell/Scrooge McDuck)


**A/N: ****I get sick pretty much every year, so what Scrooge is going through in this fic is kinda based on that. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but FLAMES can be put out with a bucket of water for all I care.**

**In other words- don't like, don't read.**

**Additional Note: Originally this was going to be a oneshot, but from the looks of things, this fic is going to be far too long for that, lol! :) So I'm going for a multi-chap fic instead.**

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At first, it started out as an itch. A tiny, persistent itch in the inside of his throat- an itch where no matter how much he scratched his neck, it simply would _not_ go away. Fenton had questioned Scrooge a few times, asking if he was alright- the older pekin shrugged it off as just allergies. Pollen, he told himself. It was the pollen in the air irritating his lungs, and nothing more.

Scrooge, being the cheapskate that he was, didn't even _want_ to go on a honeymoon in the first place. He worked his tail feathers off to become the world's richest duck- he wasn't about to blow it on some heavily overrated _vacation_. But Fenton was absolutely insistent that they_ had_ go on a honeymoon. The accountant said several times that he himself would pay for everything, so Scrooge wouldn't have to give up a cent.

This went on for days on end.

Finally, just to get the younger duck to shut up, Scrooge said yes.

And so that was how he, Scrooge McDuck-Crackshell, wound up in Rome with Fenton. Of course, having used up most of his travel money on the flight, Fenton could only afford to pay for a motel room for the week. At least M'ma Crackshell didn't come. The woman probably would've had the TV blasting with her stupid soap operas the whole time.

By the time the newlywed couple arrived at the motel and had stowed away their luggage, Scrooge's throat wasn't just itchy. It was sore. Each swallow of salvia brought him another sting of pain in the back of his throat, the terrible sensation reverberating for a few seconds before finally dissapating.

_It's just the pollen,_ he told himself._ Just the pollen._

"I can't wait to check out the museums!"

Scrooge winced. Has Fenton always talked_ this_ loud? The aforementioned accountant made his way to his husband, who was opening the window for some fresh air. This motel was so cheap it didn't even have a decent air conditioning system.

"The people, the history, the culture, the- well, _everything!_ Oh, oh, you wanna know what I really want to see most?! Spaghetti_ without_ the meatballs!"

Whether or not Fenton had always talked at that volume didn't matter at this point. Scrooge raised a hand for the younger duck to be silent. "Fenton, ye need to dial it down a bit. The last thing I need are me eardrums bursting." It hurt more to talk than it did to swallow, he realised.

Fenton's goofy smile faded, being replaced with a frown of worry. "You sure you're okay, Scroogey? You seem kind of... well, off."

"Off?"

Fenton nodded.

"I'm perfectly fine, laddie," Scrooge told him. "It's just the polle-" The older duck's words were chopped short by a round of hacking and wheezing. Fenton's hands quickly met Scrooge's shoulders.

"Blathering _blatherskite!"_ Fenton helped Scrooge sit down on the bed. "That's definitely _not_ the pollen, Scroogey!"

"What have I told ye about callin' me 'Scroogey,' laddie?" Scrooge retorted after his coughing had ceased somewhat. "I'm telli-" The pekin was cut off when Fenton practically shoved a thermometer into his beak. "Did ye just pull that out of thin-"

"Shush! It won't read right if you keep talking."

Scrooge crossed his arms and scowled at Fenton as they waited. After a moment, Fenton pulled the little glass instrument from the elder duck's beak and examined the readings. "You're temperature's higher than normal, Scroogey," the accountant observed. The wacky part-time superhero then straightened up and declared in his Gizmoduck voice, "Never fear, Mr. McDuck- I, Fenton Crackshell, shall take care of you!"

Scrooge barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Fenton, I'm fine! I am NOT sick."

"But first I need to get you some soup!" Fenton continued, Scrooge's words pretty much going in one ear and out the other. "That reminds me, on the ride over here I saw this nice little convenience store just down the street..."

The older pekin sighed tiredly and lazily flopped backwards onto the bed, which was no doubt crawling with a bed bug or two. This was going to be a _long_ week.

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**Fun fact: I read somewhere that putting meatballs in spaghetti was NOT originally an Italian thing. Not sure how true that is, but that's what the Internet is for, lol! Either way, it ain't gonna stop me from loving my meatballs. :)**


End file.
